The Bastard and the Princess Fair
by GoldenRose32
Summary: It was a mistake going to Winterfell, but a mistake Robert would repeat over and over if it would just keep that smile on his eldest daughter's face. Jon Snow/OC
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

Your mother may say whatever she wishes, but there is no denying what they had was something precious, something real, something that every little girl wants whether or not they will actually admit it. I will admit it. I will continue to admit it until the day I die. The love my bastard brother bore your sister was one not even our parents have experienced. I know how much you admired Lyanna. The day you all came to Winterfell showed me that. Within moments I saw just how much you cherished her. Within moments I saw just how much she cherished you, and Tommen, and Joffrey. I hated her at first. I damned her over and over in my mind because I couldn't stand it. I couldn't stand that she was so sought out. People listened to her when she spoke. Your father, our dear dead king, listened to her advice above all. It was through no fault of hers that King Robert would heed the words of a young woman. Lyanna had the simple misfortune of looking like her namesake. Lord Stark, my father, told me so. I also think part of my hatred for your sister came from the fact that Arya admired her immediately. It hurt to know my own blood wanted to be like someone else before she wanted to be like me.

I didn't see you with your family during the wake. I tried asking the queen about it but she would never answer. She just cried. Tommen was there, that precious, precious boy. He seemed confused as well as scared. I was scared too. I'm still scared, honestly. Jon… Jon does not know about Lyanna, and Father refuses to write him about it. He says there are some things a letter just cannot properly convey. Tragic loss is one such thing. I wasn't the one to write the pages that follow this letter. For that I employed a dear family friend. I told him what he should write about, but the words are his own. I found Jon and Lyanna's story too beautiful to let it go untold. I hope you get some type of enjoyment and solace from this as I know I have.

Myrcella, I am so, so sorry.

-Sansa Stark


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

No matter how hard Lyanna tried she couldn't hate her mother. Even now, as they sat across from each other soaked in silence, Lyanna couldn't find hate in her heart. Such emotions were not to be shown toward family. Instead they should be stored and unleashed on the true enemy, not wasted on petty family squabbles. And this was most definitely a petty family squabble. Lyanna wanted to be outside in the fresh air instead of cooped up with her mother, sister, and brothers inside a stuffy carriage where the air threatened to suffocate her. She wanted to ride beside her father, or Jaime, or Tyrion. Seven hells, she would ride by the Hound if it just meant she could get _out_! Cersei would hear none of it. All of Lyanna's pretty begging fell on deaf ears. At the start of the journey to Winterfell Jaime had warned it would be in the best interest of all involved for her to just accept things and move on. Naturally, being the daughter of a Baratheon and a Lannister, Lyanna hadn't listened at all. Asking got her nowhere. Cersei would only give her a cold glare in response. Escaping didn't work. The Hound would bring her back to the carriage. As would Jaime. At least Tyrion would help her hide, offer a moment or two of solitude. Ultimately she would be found, put back in the carriage, and reprimanded by her mother while Joffrey smirked, Tommen slept, and Myrcella watched with wide eyes. The cycle never ended and they were all sick of it.

"Mother, how much longer until we reach Winterfell?" Myrcella looked up from her doll with an expression of serene curiosity, and expression Lyanna had helped her master. "I don't think I like being stuck in here with smelly boys."

"Don't think, dear. _Know_. Know you don't like being stuck with smelly boys. Thinking can only get you so far. Don't shy away from having an opinion, a thought. No one likes a constantly uncertain person." Lyanna managed to insert a short lesson into the discussion before the queen shushed her. It wasn't an uncommon thing. All of King's Landing knew how much Lyanna loved teaching the young princess habits any proper highborn lady would ignore. Lyanna liked that they knew. She liked that they acknowledged it.

"_Lyanna, behave_."

"But Mother! I thought I _was_!"

"Lyanna. Now."

"Also, Myrcella, you should always know when to pick your battles. This isn't the time to fight, so I shall save it for another time." Lyanna smiled playfully, nudging her younger sister with the tip of her shoe. Myrcella smiled back, but there was something off in the smile. "What is it?"

Myrcella blinked a few times before stating, "I don't think they'll like us."

"Why the seven hells not? We're amazing people really. Baratheons' are notoriously clever and handsome." The sarcasm was completely lost on the younger children, even Joffrey. Cersei was the only one who smiled. Lyanna sighed. "Honestly Myrcella. Everything will be fine. We'll get there and have a grand party and get to know all of the Stark family. I hear they have several children close to your age. Tommen's as well. And there's a girl the same age as Joff."

"What about you?"

"What about me?"

When they looked at each other Lyanna could see true concern in Myrcella's eyes. "Do they have any children _your_ age? Won't you get lonely if they don't?"

Lyanna pretended to think. "I suppose I might. There again it'll just mean I have more time to work on stories for you."

"No more princess stories. I'm sick of those."

"Alright, no more princess stories. Hound!" Lyanna leaned out the window to wave Joffrey's shield closer. "I don't suppose you have any stories appropriate for young ladies?"

"Of course not, Princess."

"Thought as much. What use are you if I can't get a good story from you?"

"Not much, Princess."

Lyanna frowned. "You're being more annoying than usual, Sandor. What crawled up your-"

"Lyanna!"

"Again with the name calling! Honestly, Mother! I thought you despised my name. Why keep saying it over and over."

Cersei gave her eldest a bone chilling look. "There would be no need for me to call your name if you would just behave properly. You- by some mistake I'm sure your father will pay for- are second in line. Behave as such."

"I'm not second in line. Tommen is second in line. Then Uncle Stannis followed by Uncle Renly. I'm sure they'll manage to find some other male heir before giving that bloody throne to Myrcella or me." Her tone was petulant, arms folded across her chest. She looked like a bloody child and she knew it. She also knew nothing irked her mother more. "Joff's first in line because he's the favorite."

"Stop this nonsense Lyanna."

"Or what?"

"Or you'll ride ahead with your uncle."

Was… was her mother being serious? That was the exact thing Lyanna had been begging for. And Cersei was just going to give it to her?

"But it's true, Mother. Everyone loves Joffrey more than they care for me. Isn't that right Tommen? Tommen? Tom! Oh, never mind, keep sleeping. Tyrion! Doesn't everyone just love Joff? He's a much more popular choice than me. All through King's Landing people-"

"Enough!"

Lyanna always knew just the right things to say to anger Cersei. She was so much like Robert that way.

"Leave your brother alone. In fact, leave all of us alone. Go ride ahead with Jaime." The Queen commanded their party to stop. No one helped Lyanna out of the carriage. No one handed her the reigns to Mance. She did it all herself. "And Lyanna." The girl turned back to her mother. "Change. I won't have you getting that dress dirty."

"Yes, Mother."

When they finally began moving again everyone could hear King Robert raging at Queen Cersei for stopping their party. The reply was a common one. The Queen had to control the King's daughter. Their fights always involved 'the King's daughter', never 'our daughter'. Lyanna pretended it didn't hurt, but it did. Being denounced by her own mother hurt like a bitch. The yelling continued and Lyanna's mood dropped. Her parents were horrible to each other. She knew all of it wasn't her fault- Robert and Cersei just weren't compatible in the slightest- and she wouldn't mind their constant bickering if she wasn't brought up in them. No matter what they fought about Robert and Cersei always ended up arguing about Lyanna, the King's favorite, the only child that inherited any Baratheon features. She didn't mean to start a fight between them this time. Not so close to Winterfell, and certainly not while Myrcella and Tommen were around.

"Things would be easier if you would just listen to your mother, Lyanna. You aren't like the others. The things that work on them don't work on you. She's trying to learn."

"She's had my entire life to learn. It isn't as if I've changed drastically the past few years. I don't mean to be difficult, Jaime. I really, really don't." A particularly loud bellow made Lyanna wince. Jaime grimaced sympathetically but offered no words. "I don't like it when they fight in front of the children."

"And the rest of the realm makes no difference?"

"The rest of the realm isn't my younger brother and sister."

"Brother? I think you're forgetting one."

"No. Joffrey can handle it better than them. He's older."

"He's still younger than you."

Lyanna rolled her eyes. "What's your point, Kingslayer?"

"I thought I told you not to call me that, Lyanna."

"I'm sorry, Uncle. It slipped."

"Make sure it doesn't happen again."

"Yes ser."

Jaime let a small smile slip. He was the only one who could get her in hand like this. Well, excluding Tyrion who was most likely off with a whore at the moment. Lyanna and Cersei were more alike than either would ever admit. In looks and personality. If it wasn't for the dark hair and curvier build Lyanna could very well be a young Cersei Lannister. Perhaps that was why Jaime favored her of all Cersei's brood.

"We've arrived."

Lyanna's head snapped up at her uncle's words. He wasn't lying. The gates of Winterfell loomed before their party, making Lyanna's stomach twist. She had never been here, never met Lord Eddard Stark despite being named for his sister. One by one they filed in and stopped in front of a mass of people. At the very front was a family that could only be the Starks. They were all rather severe looking, nothing like the soft beauties found in the south, but they were attractive nonetheless. The carriage doors opened and Tommen stepped out, helping Myrcella just the way Lyanna told him to. Next was Joff who offered his arm as their mother stepped out of the carriage. Lyanna was about to dismount when she caught her mother's eye.

_No, Lyanna. You wanted to act like a commoner, so I will treat you like one._

Bloody brilliant.

Lyanna stayed mounted on Mance while Jaime joined his family. Their family. He offered no assurance as he departed, and no one moved to make her stand by the King's side. Not even their septa. Riding with Jaime hadn't been her punishment after all. This was her punishment. Queen Cersei was ignoring her, casting her out for the day. And good King Robert was just letting her. There were worse punishments, Lyanna guessed. It still didn't change the fact that this- watching as the children of the king were introduced without her- hurt. It also didn't help that no one seemed to notice she was missing. The seven kingdoms already believed her to be a myth. Why should she be asked about? It wouldn't be appropriate to ask for a story from the king and queen.

There were eyes on her, burning into the crimson tunic covering her torso. Lyanna turned to see a young girl with a dirty nose watching in awe. Arya Stark. Lyanna heard Lord Stark introduce the girl briefly. She was the youngest and most outgoing, apparently, to be staring in such a manner. Lyanna couldn't help it. She stuck out her tongue at the young girl and smiled. Arya smiled back and tugged on Sansa's sleeve, but the older sister paid no attention. She was too busy drooling over Joffrey.

* * *

_Now it's no wonder that her name means "Beauty",_  
_Her looks have got no parallel. _  
_But behind that fair facade_  
_I'm afraid she's rather odd. _  
_Very diff'rent from the rest of us, _  
_She's nothing like the rest of us._

-Belle, Beauty & the Beast

* * *

**A/N: I would like to take this time to apologize for any typos or grammar mistakes. Also, I know this chapter might be a bit boring, but it's important for establishing not only some of Lyanna's character but her relationship with her family. Don't worry, Jon comes in soon. Either the next chapter or the one after that. As always, thank you for reading.**


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

Later that night Lyanna sat alone in her room arranging her hair into one long braid. Apparently her father had taken Lord Stark aside when they went off together and told the Northerner about Cersei's 'punishment'. Adjustments had been made accordingly, meaning Lyanna was granted her own room across from Myrcella. It felt odd, wrong. Having all this done in secret made her feel like she needed to be protected and guarded from her own family. Not a pleasant thing. And unnecessary. Lyanna didn't need protection from anyone especially family. She had been finding ways around Cersei's rules for years, what made anyone think she needed help? If the queen wanted everyone to keep believing the stories about Lyanna, then so be it. It didn't matter, not really. She (perhaps) knew why Cersei kept the doubt alive. If Lyanna was right then the reasons were purely selfish, but easy enough to comprehend. Even in King's Landing there were doubts of Lyanna's existence.

Stories travel quickly, gossip even faster. The day of Lyanna's birth provided the realm whispers of a still born prince with a head full of soft black hair. Some people said Cersei smothered the child because it looked like Robert instead of a fair Lannister. The latter story was the one most commonly accepted by all the kingdoms. No celebrations were held on the day of Lyanna's birth and there was no one to announce the birth of a healthy prince or princess. There was nothing but silence from the royal family. Lyanna- at birth- had been very, very sickly and very, very quiet. She wasn't expected to live. As such, Cersei allowed several people to spread the two stories of death. The days wore on and Lyanna grew stronger. When it became obvious the young princess wasn't going to die Cersei sent out more people with more rumors. The cycle continued until no one knew the truth from the lie. Only those closest to the king and queen knew the reality of the situation. With the passage of years Cersei worked harder to keep the secret. She had three children that looked like Lannisters and one who looked like a Baratheon. In the past the dark had always beaten the light. People would begin asking questions, and with questions came investigations.

Lyanna was just beginning to thoroughly piece together her mother's logic when a knock came at her door soon followed by Robert's entrance. She stood and curtsied, knowing full well not to open her mouth. Robert and Cersei were two different people. It wasn't logic or intelligence that allowed Lyanna to terrorize her mother (if she had that she would think twice about many things) instead of her father. It was self-preservation and the childish belief that only the king may do harm to others.

"Lyanna, my dear girl! Why aren't you with the rest of us? Stark's got a good looking lad, go talk to him. Dance, have fun for once in your life, girl!" Robert was drunk off his ass, shouting loud enough for all of Winterfell to hear him. Lyanna bit back a sigh. She didn't like dealing with her father while he was drunk. No matter what it took she generally went out of her way to avoid him during such occasions. Drunk Robert was certainly not a Robert people liked being around, king or not.

"But I _am_ having fun, Father."

"Of course you are. Braiding hair and pacing about are certainly two of your most favorite things. I didn't bring you here to stay locked away in a bloody room the whole damn time! Enough of that gets done in King's Landing." Robert took Lyanna's arm and pushed her towards a chest full of gowns she had yet to have unpacked. "Put on a dress- any will do. Do you really think it bloody matters to me?- and go join us. If I don't see you within ten minutes I'm sending the Kingslayer. Who knows, maybe he'll get a new name."

"Yes, Father." No sooner were the words out of her mouth then Robert was gone with his league of exasperated guards. Wearily, Lyanna picked out one of the various dresses. She didn't care which it was and Robert didn't either. Cersei would be indifferent either way. Myrcella and Tommen would call her pretty no matter what, and Joffrey would continue to be his usual, abusive self before turning his attention to something more worthy of his time. Yet none of that mattered. Lyanna liked wearing nice things. It made her feel… good for lack of a better word. But at the moment she didn't care about looking nice. She just cared about making her stay in Winterfell easier. If putting on a dress and joining the others would accomplish that, then Lyanna would do it.

When she entered the great hall sounds of laughter and general merriment greeted her along with the smell of rich foods. Her stomach growled in response. It had been a while since she ate last, having refused lunch earlier in the day and eating only part of an apple after waking up. Above the clang of forks on plates Lyanna could hear Robert's barking laughter. Lord Stark must have said something amusing. A look around revealed her family to be in spots of honor at the front of the hall, conversing politely with people around them. The rest of the place was a mix of Stark, Lannister, and Baratheon men. Lyanna took note of a boy about her age with dark hair and the looks of a Stark. It could be none other than Eddard Stark's bastard son, she was sure. Almost instantly Cersei's voice sprang into Lyanna's mind.

_ Beneath you._

Maybe, maybe not. Lyanna gave him a swift once over before turning away. She realized, standing there, that she had no one. This wasn't King's Landing where she could just bury herself in a library for days on end and only be forced out when she was absolutely needed somewhere else. No one here had any special love for her. Here in Winterfell Lyanna didn't have books or friends or solitude. Here in Winterfell she had to be a princess. Granted, the least known-

"There she is!"

Once again the king managed to interrupt her thoughts.

"Ned, this is my eldest. Lyanna Baratheon."

Sometimes- much like now- Lyanna felt like a substitute. She felt as though her name was one meant for another. And it was. Had she not died, the _real_ Lyanna would be in possession of the name instead.

"Well don't just stand there girl!" King Robert motioned her forward. She took uncertain step after uncertain step until she was standing before the two great families. "Didn't I tell you Ned? Looks just like _her_."

Lord Eddard Stark simply nodded. "She looks like _you_ Robert. And your wife. Baratheon and Lannister. No more, no less."

"You think I do your sister's memory no justice by naming my child for her. Do not lie to me Lord Stark. I always know when you're lying."

"I don't mean that at all, my King. I believe you did her a great justice. My sister would be very pleased."

And so the would be King in the North knows when to fight. It pleased Lyanna to know her father had faithful friends such as Lord Stark. Cersei, however, didn't seem to feel the same way. One look at her mother and Lyanna knew the queen was stressed and unhappy. Perhaps Jamie could help. He always had a way of calming his sister down, Lyanna had noticed. After a few more pleasantries Lyanna found herself outside, wrapping her arms around her body. The cold was biting and fierce up in the north, much like its people. There was hardly anyone around but Lyanna could distinctly make out the voice of her uncle. She was about to call out when Jamie looked up, nodded and walked away. Whoever he had been talking to looked over at her as well.

It was the bastard boy.

_Beneath you._

Lyanna smiled politely but didn't dare move any closer. He broke the distance by approaching like a shy animal.

"Hello, Princess." He bowed low.

"Hello… I'm sorry. I'm afraid I don't know your name."

"Jon Snow, Your Majesty."

Lyanna despised all of the titles, but certain appearances did need to be kept. "You're Lord Stark's bastard. I can't imagine how many people point that out when they first meet you."

"Many. They also tell me I look like him."

"You do." She agreed, adding, "A younger version, just as handsome as the Lord of Winterfell himself." Her cheeks turned red. Damn it! Why had she said that?

"Thank you, Your Grace. If I may say so, you're just as beautiful as your mother. Perhaps more."

"Mmm, careful Jon Snow. One of my uncles could very well be listening. They're very protective. One time a boy tried kissing me on the cheek and the Imp sent him on a lovely little journey somewhere across the narrow sea."

His eyes widened. "Really?"

Lyanna giggled. "No. But I wouldn't put it past Tyrion. He's the one you really need to look out for. Jamie has his sword and cloak, but Tyrion has his wit and cleverness."

Jon nodded. "Why are you out here? It's much cozier inside."

"People aren't exactly my specialty. I don't know how to work a crowd the way a good princess should."

"Is that because you're never allowed outside of your home?"

"Well, well. Aren't we being bold tonight?"

"I'm sorry, Your Majesty. I-"

"No, it's fine. I like it." _I like you, Jon Snow._

"If you aren't going back to the party may I escort you back to your room?" Jon offered his arm with a slight smile.

"Please. I would like that very much." She returned the smile and the two of them began walking in companionable silence. Lyanna would be a liar if she said she didn't enjoy it.

_Beneath you._

* * *

_"There are two great tragedies in life, one is not to have your heart's desire, the other is to have it."_

_-Oscar Wilde_


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

**_Warning: While I would normally put any type of author input at the end of the chapter I felt as though an exception should be made for this. I just want to be respectful of my readers. This chapter contains a scene of dub-con between an uncle and niece (incest). If this is a trigger for anyone I would advise skipping over that specific scene. I know that in cannon Jamie only ever slept with Cersei, but believe it or not this actually has a purpose in the plot. And no that purpose isn't for Cersei to go psycho and kill Lyanna, making everyone hate an actually very well written character and love an OC because of such a tragic, heartbreaking death *insert eye roll here*. Also, I'm playing a little bit with ages here. Lyanna is sixteen- almost seventeen- and Jon and Robb are seventeen. In the book I know they're fifteen (and there are a few other details that I can't think of right now because it's late at night and I don't have the book right beside me)but in the show they look older, so… just go with it? Please?_**

There's blood. Lots and lots of blood. So much blood that the earth is red and on the verge of turning black. Lyanna can hear screams of desperation, loud cries for help or mercy. Many want death but none want it more than her. Tommen is dead weight in her arms, eyes glassy and unseeing. Myrcella's not much better. Her throat is slit wide open oozing thick black blood. Lyanna had never seen such carnage before. Her stomach is churning and she can't get up off her knees. There's no fight left- what had she even been fighting anyway? Lyanna blinks once, twice, three times before looking up. Joffrey is sitting on the throne, blood staining his clothes and skin, with a look of disbelieving horror.

"You did this!" He shouts, voice echoing through the room. "This is your fault, Lyanna!"

"I- I didn't want this. I just-"

"You just wanted a _bastard_. Myrcella and Tommen are dead because you couldn't be bothered to keep your legs _shut_. I don't know who's going to die next. Maybe it'll be you, the lion who went off to live with wolves."

Lyanna felt her anger rising, coloring her face a few shades darker. Joffrey wouldn't stop speaking. He just wouldn't stop. Finally she snapped and spewed out just as much hate and venom as her little brother.

"I betrayed no one you whiny little twat! This," she gestured to the death around them. "This is not my fault. Myrcella and Tommen are gone because of _your_ wrongfully executed orders. This is on you, Joffrey. Not me."

"You dare question your king? I could have you killed for treason!" His face was beginning to turn red. Whether it was from anger or embarrassment, she couldn't tell.

"Joffrey, I want you to listen very carefully. You are not my king. Not now and certainly not ever."

He screamed then, half in rage and half in madness. Lyanna felt an aching pain in her lower body like a thousand swords poking around just for the fun of it. The world was growing dark, yet she could swear her eyes were still open. Joff sounded far off now as he called her name again and again until, at last, she could hear him no more.

Lyanna woke with a start, body overheated and sticky from sweat. Her mouth was dry, and her throat was scratchy. Water, she needed water. Or wine. No, not wine. Gods only knew the dreams a cup of wine would bring her. A faire was blazing softly, casting shadows about the room. Everything was silent and scary and suddenly Lyanna felt like a little girl who just wanted her mother or father. How strange. She always thought she left that girl behind long ago. As a child Lyanna never exactly received great comfort from her parents. More often than not it was Jamie who responded to her cries, all cold armor and misplaced words. He could kill a man in the blink of an eye but floundered when trying to comfort terrified children.

Gods, Jamie.

The idea struck her suddenly and before she could make a conscious decision her hand was reaching out, opening the door.

His sword glinted in the pale, night light. When Lyanna was younger it was always comforting to see it strapped to her uncle's waist. Now… well, now the sword was just a sword. She didn't find comfort in it anymore. The monsters she feared now could never be slayed by metal. They could never be dispelled by the mighty Kingslayer. As if sensing her thoughts Jamie turned and gave her a curt smile. Neither of them said anything for the longest time. Lyanna was just about to give up and go back to bed when the knight finally spoke.

"I assume this means the nightmares have returned."

"You assume too much." Lyanna studied his face in the torch light. "But yes."

"How long?"

"What-"

"Don't play stupid Lyanna. Stupid doesn't suit you like it does other highborn ladies." Jamie opened the door wider and stepped inside the room. "Tyrion and Cersei both have taught you to be more than a pretty little idiot."

Lyanna sighed before answering. "Just tonight. It's been months. Why would they come back now? I don't understand."

"Perhaps Winterfell has triggered something inside you. Something that made your prophetic dreams return." Jamie smiled. It wasn't playful. It was a challenge. A challenge to argue with him and attempt to prove him wrong.

All of his challenges ended the same way: with her naked beneath him, confessing how she was wrong and he would always be right. It was a common enough occurrence between them, especially since Lyanna's sixteenth nameday several months prior. Often times Lyanna would go into a state of depression afterwards, focusing on how wrong it was that she actually enjoyed being fucked by her uncle. Her soul had to be damned by now, but it made little difference. This… _thing_ between Jamie and Lyanna would continue because she didn't really want to stop it. Not all the time at least. She wasn't completely unaware of how handsome her uncle appeared to other women. And things could be worse. Couldn't they? Lyanna liked to believe so.

"My dreams aren't prophetic. They're just dreams. Everyone has them."

"Mmm, but yours are special. Just like you." Jamie's index finger trailed along her jawline before stopping at her lips. "Have I told you lately how beautiful you've become?"

Lyanna shook her head. "You told me that I'm beginning to look more and more like my mother. You told me I would look just like her if it wasn't for my unfortunate dark hair." In all those words, all those flatteries, she had never heard him say beautiful.

"Yes." He kissed her gently, moving both his hands to her waist. "So tell me, Lyanna. What did you foresee?"

"Nothing." She pressed her body closer to his, flinging her arms around his neck. "It was just a dream."

"But it wasn't, was it? I think you saw this. I think that's why you wouldn't speak first tonight. You dreamed of me burying my head between your thighs. You dreamed of riding me until we both collapse, spent and tired. I think you dreamed of me shoving my cock in that tight cunt of yours and making you scream loud enough for that bastard boy to hear." As he talked he pulled off Lyanna's dress and tossed it somewhere else. In return she unbuckled his sword, placed it on a chair, and slowly stripped him of the rest of his clothes. One of his hands gripped her by the waist while the other dipped down to her sex and began stroking softly. She couldn't stop the moan that tumbled from her lips. Jamie silenced her with a kiss she more than willingly reciprocated.

A ball of guilt was starting to form in her stomach. This was Winterfell, not King's Landing. They were in the home of Lord Stark. This wasn't right in any way. Lord Stark opened up his home and she repaid him by defaming it with incest. Admittedly it was very typical. Lyanna had never been good at impulse control or any kind of control really. There was something else at work here as well. Something Jamie said. '_The bastard boy_'. Jon. Had… had Jamie seen something and assumed she wanted Jon Snow? The thought didn't repulse her. Their conversation had proven him to be a sweet person if a little stoic. And yes, she would vainly admit to finding his face pleasing. He would be a good companion during her stay in Winterfell. But she didn't want to- they could never- it would be more taboo than- Oh fuck it. Lyanna pushed Jamie away. Being so distracted by her thoughts she didn't notice they were lying on the bed until Jamie sat up.

"What?" His tone was curt, almost angry. No, not almost. Definitely angry.

"Nothing… well, not nothing, obviously. I just think that this shouldn't… I mean, we shouldn't… we're in Winterfell, what if-"

"Lyanna, you're rambling."

"I know." She didn't feel confident anymore. Here, at night, all her bravado and sarcasm was stripped away until she was naked for anyone to see. Usually things felt comfortable with Jamie, but the thought of Jon somewhere in the castle had her on edge. What would he think? Why should she care? There was just too much doubt for anything to happen with Jamie. "I just can't. Not here."

"Then pretend we aren't here."

"I can't do that."

"Can't or won't." Jamie tilted her chin up so she was forced to look at him. "I can have you feeling so blissful you won't even be able to tell me where we are afterwards." He kissed her again, making her head spin and her heart pound.

Wrong. Wrong. So wrong. Then why aren't you stopping this? Jamie would never force himself on you. Would he? Tell him you don't want it. Tell him…

Tell him nothing. Lyanna gripped his shoulders tight, leaving behind nail marks. This wasn't right at all but she just couldn't care anymore. The kiss continued until it was nothing but teeth and tongue and lips and desire. At last Jamie flipped her onto her stomach, entering her from behind. His thrusts were hard and possessive like he knew she was thinking of Jon and wanted to fuck the thought of him away. She was a whimpering mess beneath him, barely managing to stifle her moans and near screams. With one last snap of his hips Lyanna came undone. Jamie followed after, pulling out slowly. She fell to the bed, unable to do anything but grin sleepily at her uncle.

"Let me know if you have another dream. Your mother will wish to know." Jamie kissed the top of her head after dressing and repositioning his sword.

"Yes, Uncle." Lyanna stretched and climbed under the covers. The dress she had previously been sleeping in didn't matter anymore. Despite being utterly worn out she couldn't help but think of Jon Snow. He really, really was one of the nicest people she'd encountered. Granted they'd only had one actual conversation, but sometimes that is all that's needed to get a decent idea of someone's character. Before lapsing back into sleep Lyanna saw Jon smiling at her after walking her back to her room. He really had a nice smile.

* * *

_People who come from dysfunctional families are not destined for a dysfunctional life. -__**Bo Bennett**_


End file.
